A childhood memory I have is playing at my grandfather's farm. He lived on 100 acres (I think) and we would run through the fields, run through the woods, track deer, listen to turkeys, and catch fish.
Also on his property was a little house that he had sold and then bought back (my grandfather was anything if not interesting), so we could go down there and "live". With running water in a completely furnished house we played Little House on the Prairie. We saw herds of deer run by the window. We got attacked by some geese and and we ran over fields of green grass.
My only regret is that my little siblings can't experience that feeling of freedom and adventure. I tell them the stories and they don't quite believe me. It seems to good to be true.
Maybe it is.
Then again... maybe not.